


Old Skills

by betawho



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Martial Arts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betawho/pseuds/betawho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River is a master of martial arts, but the Doctor too has many skills...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Skills

He wandered through the Tardis corridors searching for River. He heard a series of thumps and bumps and his eyebrows went up. He followed the noises and opened a door to find what looked like a cross between a gym and a dojo.

Punching bags, martial arts practice equipment, polished wooden floor. And right in the middle, River, battling her way through an obstacle course like a deadly angel.

She was music in motion, power, strength and grace.

She didn’t yell, like other martial artists he’d seen, but proceeded with lethal silence.

She jumped, spun and kicked the head off one practice mannikin, dropped under a swinging wooden sword and pounded into the punching bag torso of the dummy, rolled, and came up inside the arms of a wooden whirling dervish device, whipped her forearms out and disarmed it, kneeing it to the ground with a crash. She leaped over it and dashed across the inset dojo pool and proceeded to duck, dodge, kick, spin, leap and lash out until the five hanging, armed and swinging heavy bag opponents were lying in a heap on the floor.

None of the twirling wooden swords or cudgels even touched her.

She picked up a towel off a bench and trotted lightly back across the smooth stepping stones in the pool, rubbing vigorously at her sweaty hair. Gray, prison issue sports bra, and loose white karate gi pants somehow looked both elegant and stylish on her.

“Hello, Sweetie.”

As always, she took his breath away. But he felt a curl of unease under his hearts. He waved a hand at the room. Wooden floors, sand garden and pool, walls covered in weapons, floors covered in practice equipment, and heavy bags hanging from the vaulted roof. Even natural-seeming sunlight streaming through the skylights.

“I don’t remember this room.”

She smiled, draping the towel around her neck. “Sexy made it especially for me.” She looked around in satisfaction.

He suddenly dropped his head, staring at the floor. He rubbed a bit of grit under his boot.

“You don’t have to do this anymore, you know,” he said guiltily.

She slipped a fingernail under his chin and tipped his face up. He looked at her with deep, soulful eyes. Guilty, penitent.

She shook her head. “You know that’s not true,” she said softly.

His eyes got even sadder. She smiled and gave him a small smooch. “Besides. I enjoy it. No point in letting old skills go to waste. I don’t really remember much about my lessons, but my muscles remember. And I like the exercise,” she said happily, lightly.

She seemed buoyed, skin glowing, eyes bright. His gaze flowed down over her, she had a casual, muscular, warrior's body that enjoyed exertion. The sweet scent of her woman sweat went straight to his brain.

She gave him a bright look. “Spar with me.”

His head pulled back. “What?”

“What about that Venusian Aikido of yours? It’s not like you don't have the training.”

His eyebrows popped up. “I haven’t used that in centuries,” he said reminiscently. “I’m not sure this body will even remember how.”

“Well, this time you’ve got those big Venusian feet to help,” she said teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He stared down at his feet. His big boots stared back. She had a point.

She grinned at him, slipping her towel off her neck and tossing it aside. “I didn’t learn my skills in my current body either,” she remarked. “I’m sure you’ll remember.”

He gave her a dubious look. But she looked so happy, so healthy and joyous and carefree, far from the tormented assassin he sometimes worried about.

He grinned. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He took up a defensive stance, bladed hands up, butt out, looking like a complete moron.

She threw him easily the first couple of times. But by the third time, his body seemed to remember the moves.

“Hai!”

River found herself slammed to the floor, breath knocked out of her, laying there, staring up at him, back stinging.

He didn't bumble around and apologize, but held his stance and watched her warily.

Suddenly she grinned. “Ooh, _Sweetie!_ ”

—

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